


It Must Be A Tuesday

by Nununununu



Series: Nununununu's Kinktober 2019 fics [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aromantic Natasha Romanov, Bisexuality, Bodyswap, Bottom Steve Rogers, Day 7, Dom/sub Undertones, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Femdom, Friends With Benefits, Kinktober 2019, Magic, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson, Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 23:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20956499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: It’s not even the fifth weirdest thing Natasha has experienced this month.





	It Must Be A Tuesday

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7: Natasha Romanov / Steve Rogers (Body Swap)
> 
> Maybe more of an M than E? Rated to be safe. Mentions threesome relationships (Pepper / Tony / Rhodey and potential future Bucky / Sam / Steve). First time writing a bodyswap fic.

“Huh.”

It’s not even the fifth weirdest thing Natasha has experienced this month.

She’s currently in Steve’s body – literally rather than sexually: the Wonder Wizard, as the villain of the week had called himself, having got a number of the Avengers with the spell disguised as a glitter bomb. There’s glitter everywhere as a result; they'd had to brush themselves down as thoroughly as possible outside before going into the tower.

Having been small enough to avoid the spell, Hope and Scott are dealing with the apprehended miscreant, who’d assured them the effects of the spell would only remain for a twenty-four hour time limit, after Natasha – fresh in Steve’s body but not one to lose her head under pressure and feeling more amused than perturbed – persuaded the man to talk.

Tony – in Rhodey’s body – is supposedly contacting Doctor Strange now to confirm the spell will indeed wear off, while Pepper – in Tony’s body – and Rhodey’s – in hers – deal with the media and military fallout. As Natasha last saw the trio getting quite handsy with each other while removing their armour, she suspects they may be conducting some impromptu experiments in Tony’s lab first.

“Do you think Mr ‘Wonder Wizard’ planned who would get swapped into which body?” Natasha asks Steve now, turning her – his – massive shoulders sideways and ducking her head as she steps into her bedroom, holding the door open for him to enter as well.

“It does seem convenient,” Steve is only looking a little uncomfortable, tugging at the cuffs of his – her – catsuit and glancing absently around her room. It’s as she left it, mostly pristine but a little lived in around the edges: a brush left out on her dressing table, her dressing gown forgotten over the mirror. She’s settled in here, in a way she hasn’t anywhere for a long time. It’s home. These people are her family.

“It’s okay,” Natasha gives Steve a smile, “We’re each going to have to deal with it at some point, aren’t we.” She tips her head meaningfully at the ensuite.

“You’re right. I, ah, won’t look,” Steve gives her a little smile somewhere between amused and rueful, setting the plates he’s carrying down on top of her chest of drawers before disappearing into the bathroom to pee.

“Just be grateful I don’t have my period,” Natasha calls after him and hears him chuckle as he shuts the door. She’s curled up on her bed amongst her pillows – more difficult to do with Steve’s huge limbs than her own – when he re-emerges, drying his hands on the towel.

“Not too traumatic?” Natasha offers Steve one of her sandwiches as he perches on the side of her bed.

“Nothing traumatic about it,” Steve considers his – Natasha’s – hands for a moment, before accepting the sandwich gratefully. Inhaling it in no more than two bites, he reaches out a long arm for his own plate, huffing when he remembers the size difference and has to uncurl himself – Natasha’s body, rather – up off the bed to fetch it instead. There’s a little line between his brows when he sits back down, “It takes me back, being so small.”

“I’m not that small,” Natasha pokes him with her toe. She has to move carefully in Steve’s body: his strength is such that it would be easy to give her own body a bruise.

“You’re right,” Steve’s lips twitch. He glances at her sideways as he passes her one his own sandwiches in return, and uncaps his bottle of water, “I was much smaller than you, back before the serum.”

“I know you were,” Natasha sets in on the gifted sandwich, chasing it with a sip of her fizzy drink. She grimaces faintly at the can after she swallows, “Oh, these don’t taste as good in your body.”

“Never did like them,” Steve looks a bit apologetic.

They both pause.

“Can I –” Steve starts.

“Go on, try it,” Natasha says at the same time. She hands him the can and watches as he cautiously sips.

“Not bad,” Steve is sporting that little frown again. He takes another sip, “It definitely tastes better than when I’m in my own body.”

“Hmm,” Inspiration striking her, Natasha sets her emptied plate aside, “Are you ticklish?”

Blinking, Steve's mouth quirks.

“Terribly. Bucky used to sneak up on me, back when we were kids, and get his bony fingers just – _everywhere_,” He huffs, “He was always careful to stop if my asthma threatened to flare up, but on my better days he’d near drive me insane.”

While his tone implies irritation, the look on his – Natasha's – face is entirely fond. It’s odd to see her features appear so expressive.

“Talented fingers, huh,” Natasha conceals her own smile in her drink.

“At winding me up, sure,” Chuckling, Steve shrugs a little, a mild flush dusting his cheeks, “Anyway, it’s one of the few things the serum didn’t change.”

“I’ve never been ticklish,” Natasha muses. They consider one another, a tiny smirk slowly growing on her – Steve’s – face and an answering one on his.

A few minutes later they have their answer: Natasha is reasonably ticklish while in Steve’s body, a weird sensation she can’t say she’s at all fond of, while Steve is less ticklish than usual while in hers.

It’s a mildly disappointing discovery, but Natasha makes a mental note to give Steve a poke sometime when the spell’s worn off. Just to see what happens, of course. And she isn’t against the thought of seeing him get tickled mercilessly by Barnes.

“You do know what Sam and Bucky are probably doing right now?” She asks as she flops back amongst her pillows. She’d rolled further down on the bed during the tickle fight and her – Steve’s – shoulders are broad enough that she’s taking up almost all of the room. Steve – in her body – is lying awkwardly sideways on the narrow strip of mattress available to him, propped on one elbow and hip.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. He doesn’t protest when Natasha hooks her – his – arm around narrow shoulders and tugs him until he’s resting his head on her chest.

Having no breasts is odd. Having her own breasts press against her side – Steve’s side – is odder: Natasha’s quite comfortable with breasts in general, including her own, but it’s still a little disconcerting to feel her own nipples pebbling through the material of her catsuit.

“Ah, sorry,” Steve shifts, “I just – they’re sensitive, aren’t they.”

“It’s okay; it’s my body,” Natasha shrugs. It's something else that carried over when they swapped bodies, perhaps; personally she's never found them particularly sensitive. Pressing her – Steve’s – mouth against the crown of his – her own – head, Natasha inhales the familiar scent of her shampoo. There are bits of glitter still in her hair and caught in both of their clothes. “Do you mind?”

“About Bucky and Sam, or about the situation in general?” Steve sighs after a moment, “No.”

“You’re happy that he’s happy,” Natasha says for him. The echo of his heart thudding in her – his – chest is louder, faster than her own, “That they’re happy.”

“They both deserve all the happiness in the world,” Steve says, and she’s certain he means it.

Natasha still can’t help but prod just a little, “You’ve seen the way they both look at you.”

“Hmm,” Steve sounds, if anything, amused, “If you’re trying to set me up again, I think I can manage.” He muffles a yawn, “I’ll have to think of someone to set you up with, you realise.”

“I’m not one for relationships,” Natasha is quite happy with the discreet contacts she visits whenever the need arises, “Back before I could choose missions, it tended to be something my _personas_ indulged in. I’d rather keep any – manhandling – separate from that.” The smirk that crosses her face sits unfamiliarly on Steve’s lips, “Or woman-handling.”

Steve, being Steve, takes this in his stride, although Natasha feels his – her – nipples harden further.

“You like, ah,” he fumbles only slightly and she’s sure it’s not from embarrassment, “Handling? Men and women?”

It’s not the gender thing he’s questioning, is it.

“Oh yes,” Natasha lets her smirk grow. She feels something else grow as well, further down: a part of her body – Steve’s body – that she’s never experienced quite like this before.

“Hmm,” She starts to glance down at it, but – thinking to spare Steve’s modesty – refrains.

“Ah, that tends to happen after missions,” Steve sounds apologetic, but not particularly disturbed, “Or when I think about manhandling. Or, um. Being manhandled.”

Natasha knows him well enough that she's not exactly surprised by the last part.

“That’s fair enough,” She gives in to the urge to shift much as Steve did earlier, seeking to adjust the pressure of her – his – trousers, “It _is_ a little uncomfortable, though.” Something occurs to her, “How do you even get your uniform off?”

Steve’s pretty vacuum packed into all that leather, after all. Natasha made a habit of learning to put her catsuit on and take it off quickly back when she first got it, something that's come in useful many a time, but Steve’s might take a little more work.

“Mostly through determination,” She can hear Steve’s grin in his voice. He picks himself – her body – up partly, turning on the bed so he can look at her. There’s a familiar hint of mischief in his eyes, one many people probably don’t equate with Captain America but Natasha has learned frequently lurks not far under the surface. He bites his lip, “Are you curious?”

“About your dick?” She gives in and looks down at the nascent bump in her – Steve’s – uniform.

“Not specifically,” Steve wrinkles his nose a little, “More – about having one, I suppose.”

“I suppose,” Natasha echoes, raising an eyebrow, “I take it you’re curious about having a vagina.”

She watches Steve bite his – her – lip. Yeah, he’s curious all right.

“You do know women can have multiple orgasms,” she points out, as it seems relevant. Not that she’s desperate to have sex with him – to have sex with herself, sort of – but there are other things they could do that would be fun. She wouldn’t be adverse to advising him about how her body likes to be treated, for example, or to see how Steve's continues to respond.

She's certain he'd be pleasing to instruct.

“I’ve heard that,” An impish expression Natasha has never seen herself wear before crosses Steve’s – her – face. Sitting up further, he grins more broadly at her, “Would you be interested in discovering what prostates can do, or is that crossing a line?”

“Oh, I know what prostates can do,” Natasha’s had her share of sex with men using a strap-on and attachment. She considers it, “Although I guess I am a little curious to discover how it feels compared to a clit.”

“Shall we then?” Steve gives her the grin that never fails to make Barnes’ call him ‘punk’.

“Well, as everyone else is probably doing it, I suppose we might as well,” Natasha deadpans. She presses her palm against her – Steve’s – growing erection, watching his – her own – eyes darken, “Clothes on and using hands or toys?”

“Yes ma'am,” Steve grins broadly, hand rising to hover close to one of his – her – breasts, “May I?”

“You may,” Nodding, Natasha watches him tweak his – her – nipple and gasp.

Yes, he’s definitely more sensitive in her body than she is when she’s in it. Seeing open pleasure on her face is unfamiliarly interesting. Natasha’s never been one to display her enjoyment like that.

Perhaps she should try.

“Oh this is _responsive_, isn’t it,” As such she grinds her – Steve’s – fabric-covered cock against the palm of her hand, and laughs in breathless discovery when it makes her – his – whole body jerk.

“It sure is,” Steve laughs along with her, just as delighted, “Friends?”

“Friends,” Natasha grins back at him, “That's not going to change, Rogers.” 

“Glad to hear it,” Steve gives her that impish look again, “Your orders, ma'am?”

“Right then,” Natasha puts her hand on his – her own – chest to position him how she wants, and gives him her first instruction.


End file.
